


Good Things Come…

by Sherylyn



Category: White Collar
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:29:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sherylyn/pseuds/Sherylyn
Summary: You know the saying. It’s usually true. (For the Fifth Annual Caffrey-Burke Day.)





	

_For the Fifth Annual Caffrey-Burke Day. Because how could we possibly_ **not** _celebrate these wonderful guys??!_

~*~

  
Elizabeth Burke was glad to be home. She’d had a busy Saturday with work events, it was after 8:00 PM, and she was ready to just take a nice, hot bath and relax for a while.  
  
Satchmo came to greet her, tail wagging happily, as she entered the house and set down her purse and business tote. She greeted the Lab and was about to call out to the guys when she heard a deep moan from upstairs. She quirked an eyebrow at Satch. “Well, no wonder you’re down here alone. Come on, let’s get a snack.”  
  
She kicked off her shoes by the bottom of the stairs, led the way into the kitchen, and got Satch a treat from the pantry, glancing toward his bowls as she did. He had plenty of food and water, so apparently the guys hadn’t completely forgotten him. She knew they’d heard her come in — the alarm’s beep always alerted whoever was home when one of them entered. She poured herself a glass of wine and settled onto the sofa to enjoy the quiet and relax for a few minutes. She’d head upstairs to her bath soon, but the idea of just sitting down and drinking her wine in peace was appealing.  
  
She leaned her head against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. She could hear slight noises from the bedroom — the bed squeaked at times, and quiet murmurs of voices. She smiled to herself. She’d let the guys finish, and then she’d join them after her bath — once they’d had time to recover.  
  
There were more sounds from the bedroom, and she heard someone walking in the hallway upstairs, another creak from the bed, and then, more clearly, Neal’s voice: “Oh, god, Peter, yessss…” She frowned slightly, wondering at the change. Maybe whoever had walked into the hall had left the door open? There was another murmur of Peter’s slightly deeper voice, and then another groan from Neal.  
  
El shifted on the sofa and deliberately drank some of her wine. The sounds and the images Neal’s moans invoked were stirring her own desires.  
  
“Oh, god… yes, _right there_. Just don’t stop!” Neal moaned.  
  
“Is that good?” Peter’s voice.  
  
“Yes, perfect, just… god, just there!”  
  
El glanced at her wine glass and decided she needed a refill. She padded into the kitchen, poured herself a generous portion, and went back toward the couch, but just as she resettled herself in her favorite spot, she heard, “OW! Peter, not so hard!”  
  
She glanced toward the stairs, wondering what the hell was going on _now_ , and saw that Satchmo had lifted his head from where he’d been dozing in his bed, and now he had tilted it, listening intently, too. She shook her head. “ _Boys_ …” she muttered to herself as she sipped her wine again.  
  
Peter responded to Neal, but his voice was muffled, and she couldn’t make out the words. And then she heard a definite _squawk_ of pain from Neal, and “Stop! Ow! Peter, that _hurts_!”  
  
“Cowboy up!” Peter’s voice was clear this time, as was his apparent exasperation. “It’ll feel better if you’ll just let me finish!”  
  
“Nooo, Peter, please just _stop_!” Neal was whining now, and Peter’s response was muffled again.  
  
El frowned. Satch was looking at her, and she’d have sworn he looked worried. She sighed and picked up her wineglass. “C’mon, Satch, let’s go make sure they’re not doing something stupid,” she muttered as she got to her feet, and he hurried up the stairs ahead of her.  
  
When she stepped into the bedroom, she stopped abruptly in the doorway, stunned at the sight that met her. The furniture had all been rearranged — in just the way she’d been saying for weeks that they needed to move it to better accommodate the larger bed they’d ordered a few months ago.  
  
Peter and Neal were on the bed, and Peter was straddling Neal’s hips, holding him in place. Satchmo looked at the bed, seemed to decide that all was well after all, and settled down on his bed in the corner.  
  
“Hey, El,” Neal greeted her, his face smushed into the mattress.  
  
“Hi, hon,” Peter echoed, smiling at her.  
  
“What in the world is going on in here? Neal sounded like he was in pain,” she asked, confused by what she’d expected to find versus what she was seeing. She set down her wineglass on her repositioned dresser.  
  
“I _was_!” Neal replied just as Peter said, “He’s fine!”  
  
El folded her arms and cocked an eyebrow at the two of them. “Would you like to try that again?”  
  
Peter huffed and opened his mouth, but Neal beat him to it. “Peter insisted on trying to help my back, but he made it hurt more,” he complained.  
  
Peter gave Neal’s shoulder a light smack. “I _was_ helping, if you’d be still and let me finish.”  
  
Neal started to protest, and El held up a hand. “What happened to your back, Neal?”  
  
“Um… well, when we were moving the furniture, the bed was a bit heavier—”  
  
“What he’s trying to say is that he tried to move it by himself instead of waiting for me like I told him to,” Peter interjected.  
  
Neal huffed and Peter leaned forward slightly, sliding his hands over Neal’s bare back. Neal’s eyes fluttered closed and he groaned softly. El smirked as Peter rolled his eyes. “Better?” Peter prompted, and Neal nodded slightly. “If you’d just _listen_ to me…” Peter began and Neal opened his mouth again, his impending rebuttal plain on his face.  
  
“Hon, hang on a sec,” El interrupted. She walked closer to the bed and crouched down so she could meet Neal’s gaze more easily. She slid her fingers through his hair, lightly massaging his scalp just as she knew he loved. “Okay, be honest: do we need to take you to the doctor for muscle relaxers or something?” she asked.  
  
“No, it’s just strained, it’ll be okay,” Neal answered, wincing slightly as Peter’s fingers worked deeper into the muscles. She nodded, convinced of his sincerity.  
  
“Okay. I’ll make you a deal: you let Peter work on it while I take a bath, and then we’ll see if we can help you relax enough to get to sleep.” She grinned at him teasingly, and he grinned back at her. “Deal?” she prompted, and Neal nodded.  
  
“Deal,” he echoed.  
  
“Good.” She leaned in and kissed his cheek, then stood and gave Peter a quick kiss. “No more bickering in here, so I can enjoy my bath.”  
  
“Yes, ma’am,” Peter answered, and she beamed at him, then went into the closet to undress and hang up her clothes.  
  
She grabbed her robe from its hook, but instead of putting it on, she simply draped it over one arm and, grinning to herself, strolled past the bed toward the bathroom. She didn’t have to look at her men to know exactly how they were looking at her. She snagged her wineglass from the dresser as she passed.  
  
Just past the doorway, she leaned back to peek into the bedroom. Peter and Neal were still staring in her direction. She gave them a brilliant smile and said, “Remember, boys: good things come to those who wait.”  
  
That bath sounded better than ever, but maybe she’d make it just a bit shorter than she’d originally envisioned. After all, she’d been waiting, too.

 

~*~

The End


End file.
